Music Induced Chemistry
by Redderhead
Summary: With the help of music, John expresses himself. Please let me know what you think! Serious Johnlock-ism. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_Ok guys, slightly different take on Johnlock here, don't worry its still a happy story! Please review, let me know where I'm winning and losing – I will endeavour to write a second chapter if you would like there to be one!_

_As usual, I own nout, no-one and nothing._

_**Music induced Chemistry**_

"So, where are we going?" John asked as he jogged a little to keep up with the fast paces of the Consulting Detective.

The weather was promising for a Saturday afternoon in July; the sun was beating onto the concrete jungle, making the air humid and heavy. John could feel a trickle of sweat fall down between his shoulder blades underneath his cotton shirt. He found himself aimlessly wondering how Sherlock never seemed to sweat, even now in his tight fitting designer labelled suit. It just wasn't fair, the man was good at everything; including bodily functions.

The curly haired detective broke John's reverie as he turned to him, stopping in the street to look up at the sky for reasons unknown;

"We need to go back to 221B. We are going out tonight" He said thoughtfully in his usual low baritone with the underlying tone of promised adventure.

John smiled in reply; he had no idea why the Detective made him so happy, he also didn't care to think of it so it didn't matter.

They continued walking, turning the corner onto Baker Street and entering their flat wordlessly.

"Undercover John, we have a few hours yet, but, we are going to a night club to see if we can track down this gang - what do you wear to a 'club'?" Sherlock asked a little frown crossing his brow as they reached their landing.

"You are kidding right?" John asked incredulously, but then, Sherlock was not really the type to socialise; therefore it must be new territory for the man. The doctor sighed; "Look it up on the internet, Sherlock" he said as he climbed the stairs to his own room aiming for an hour or two's nap before their evening adventure.

When John returned some time later; dressed in a dark purple shirt, black jeans and his best black shoes, he headed for his armchair.

Sherlock's bedroom door opened abruptly stopping John in his tracks.

The Army Doctor gawped at the Detective as the elegantly tall man strolled into the kitchen, seemingly unaware of John's presence as he turned toward the kettle to fill it with water.

The soldier's eyes lingered on the leather clad rear of his flatmate before his gaze headed north, glossing over the black, tight shirt and up to his styled curls that were tamed into almost straight hair.

"I take it by your reaction that this is satisfactory for a Saturday night out?" Sherlock murmured dully as he turned to face the shorter man, who was frozen to the rug in the middle of their shared living room.

"Y-yes, I just…never expected you to dress up that much…should I – change?" John asked inarticulately, pointing to himself.

"I am only following the advice on the internet, John. I have no idea if you should change" Sherlock said with a quick glance toward his own open tongued boots.

"Where did you even get those clothes?" John asked, deciding on a conversation change.

"I bought them, John, from a shop would you believe" Sherlock mused with a sarcastic smirk towards the Doctor.

John's heart skipped a beat at this smirk. Something else had changed.

"Sherlock, have you – have you got fake tan on your face?" he asked in amazement.

"A little, it is not permanent" Sherlock said as he turned toward his experiment lining the kitchen table. "Make the tea, would you John? These clothes are insufferably warm." He said without looking up as the kettle boiled.

John closed his mouth and straightened his back, tearing his eyes away from the detective; he made his way into the kitchen to make the tea.

Walking beside 'Undercover Sherlock' was a surreal experience; John kept snatching glances at the taller man as he paced his way along the pavement. As they neared the club, the groups of young ladies were increasing. Sherlock received many appreciative eyes from the impressionable single females, much to John's annoyance. However, as John furtively surveyed their surroundings, he remembered that Sherlock wasn't wired _that_ way. The man was married to his work; he had no interest in pursuing a relationship.

In the back of John's mind something unknown whispered; 'Shame'.

The Doctor shook himself off as they stood at the mouth of the loud nightclub.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked with a frown down at his friend.

"Yes, yes, fine, fine" John answered hastily as he looked up dubiously at the name of the nightclub.

Once inside, John put his hands in his pockets and aimed for the nearest bar. He examined his surroundings in a sweeping glance; noticing that the people in the club were on average still quite sober, the lights were a dominating dark purple and red; making the space dark, cosy and safe. The dance floor was empty with the exception of one brave couple.

The building was old and the owners of the club had done their best to keep it in the fashion of its day; the wallpaper not that dissimilar to their own living room at 221B, the dance floor was lined with tall white pillars; stretching from ceiling to floor elegantly and the seating around the edges were comprised mainly of old armchairs and loungers.

"What are you drinking, Sherlock?" John asked as he stood on tip-toes to see in the refrigerators behind the bar.

"I don't drink, John" Sherlock said numbly as he leaned with his back against the bar beside the doctor, surveying the crowd. John was caught off-guard by the view of his friend, Sherlock looked like a magazine cover, and it wasn't fair.

"Right, fine, can I have a….double jack and coke please?" John said with raised eyebrows toward the nodding bar maid.

The music was loud and unrecognisable, John was tapping the surface of the bar aimlessly with his knuckles along to the beat, then he caught one of the lyrics; 'I'll let you whip me if I misbehave, it's just that no one makes me feel this way'. John coughed awkwardly; snatching yet another glance toward his flatmate's sculpted face.

Good god, he hadn't even touched his drink yet, what was he going to be like after a drink of whisky? He thought in mild panic.

Sherlock was approached by three racy females within the space of twenty minutes, John watched on in anger as Sherlock leaned towards each one and whispered in their ear. The Doctor felt his fists clench as he saw each woman swoon and close their eyes; enjoying that low and commanding tone so close to their sensitive ears. It wasn't fair. John caught himself. What was he doing? He then realised with a jolt, that he wasn't jealous of Sherlock, he was jealous of the obvious pleasure on the females' expressions. He wanted to be able to talk like that, he wanted to know what Sherlock was telling them, he wanted to be the only one that Sherlock talked to; he wanted…Sherlock to be _his and his alone._

John bottomed his tall drink before promptly ordering another. Muttering that he was going to visit the bathroom, he downed that drink too before turning from Sherlock to find the mens' room.

Splashing cold water on his face, John felt the nausea relieve somewhat. What was he going to do? Was he, in fact, gay? Was this a life changing realisation that was going to change everything? What would Sherlock say if he knew?

John looked at himself in the sticky and smeared mirror. They were supposed to be on a case. But John couldn't focus on what the case was; he couldn't even remember what the perpetrators descriptions were, all he could picture was the image of Sherlock, standing in their kitchen, his black leather trousers leaving nothing to imagination, those small plastic buttons straining to cover the expanse of flesh across the tall man's chest and that hair. The hair that was gelled and swept aside from his forehead, the natural looking tan making his wolf-like eyes more prominent and his teeth whiter than white. God. He was in love with the man.

John groaned into a paper towel as he dried his face.

The mindless thumping of the beat to the previous tune outside dulled out and a new beat began; signalling a change of song. John knew this one and its' dangerously low bass guitar line. He looked determinedly back into the mirror in front of him before grasping the confidence he required and opening the bathroom door.

Sherlock stood where John had left him, propping up the bar. At the sudden light from the open bathroom, he had turned and his eyes widened at the sight of a determined John Watson.

Just as the lead guitar kicked in, John made his way across the space between them, walking in time with the music. He grasped Sherlock's hand from the bar just as the lyrics kicked in.

"When you look you see right through me,  
Cut the rope, fell to my knees,  
Born and broken every single time"

Making time for a wordless glance into the bright, surprised eyes he found looking at him, John turned and led Sherlock onto the dance floor, nearing a pillar.

'Always keep me under finger,  
That's the spot when you run to me,  
Might see some type of pleasure in my mind'

With new-found cool-ness, John threw momentum into Sherlock's arm, spinning him and almost throwing him forcefully against the pillar. Sherlock's back connected with the white pillar in time with the heavy beat of the music.

Sherlock stared into John's dangerous eyes as the Doctor placed a hand flat against the taller man's chest.

'Yeah, here comes the water,  
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I  
This time you see'

At the sudden slow change to music, John's other hand released Sherlock's and joined its companion on his chest. John ran his fingers shamelessly up from their current position to the Detective's neck before running each one down both arms, once he had reached both delicate hands, he grasped them and yanked Sherlock forward from the pillar.

Sherlock hopelessly went where he was guided, his facial expression giving away his innocence.

John was fuelled by this as he dangerously ran a dominating hand across the sociopath's chest once more whilst walking around him. John had to display to every one of those girls that Sherlock was _his_ and was not for the taking; and he thought he was doing a damn good job of it.

'When you seek me you destroy me,  
Rape my mind and smell the poppies,  
Born and bloodied every single time'

John turned to face Sherlock once more in front of him and without warning Sherlock stepped his left leg forward, John mirrored him as best he could, dropping his hand from the taller man, he stepped his right leg backward. Wordlessly they danced without touch.

'Always keep me under finger,  
That's the spot where you might linger,  
But I see some type of pleasure in my mind'

John stepped to the side and turned his back to the consulting detective, who loyally followed in tow, spooning the doctor and bringing his left arm up he lay it against John's chest, encircling him but not dominatingly so, they walked simultaneously forward in time with the music, John's back to Sherlock's chest.

'Yeah, here comes the water,  
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I,  
This time you see,  
Like holy water,  
It only burns you faster than you'll ever dry,  
This time with me'

During the guitar solo, Sherlock grasped John's arm and whipped him around to face him, his eyes dark and dangerously smouldering.

Grasping one of John's hands, Sherlock began to twirl him around miraculously mirroring the beat of the erratic tune with his movements; ever the delicate dancer.

Of course, John thought numbly, why shouldn't the man that is good at everything be the Worlds best dancer?

There was no softness in either face as the men frantically moved and almost ground against each other.

Once the instrumental had come to a close, Sherlock placed a forceful hand on the centre of John's chest as the Doctor had done previously and pushed him backward.

'When you look you see right through me,  
Cut the rope, fell to my knees,  
Born and bloodied,  
Every single time,

Yeah, here comes the water,  
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I,  
This time you see,  
Like holy water,  
It only burns you faster than you'll ever dry  
This time with me'

As the maddeningly dark music drew to a close, Sherlock had pushed John back half way across the dance floor and had him pinned to the pillar with the last beat in a reverse position of how John had started this bizarre ritual.

The two men breathed heavily as the beat disappeared, their eyes narrowed at each other as they shared a stare. Eventually, Sherlock dropped his hand and stood back, John fixed his shirt collar as he glanced around them, the dance floor theirs for the taking as several on-lookers watched with interest.

As the next song started, John made to walk from the dance floor. Sherlock reached out quickly without looking and grabbed John's hand, pulling it close and consequently turning the shorter man toward him.

Sharing a softer glance, John recognised the song as Rihanna's, he liked it. The beat couldn't have been more different from their previous dance as the intro progressed.

Sherlock's eyes danced over John's change of facial expression; reading him easily. He gave a tiny, almost unnoticeable, shake of his head as he catalogued this moment.

'Te Amo, Te Amo,  
She says to me,  
I hear the pain in her voice,  
Then we danced underneath the candelabra,  
She takes the lead,  
That's when I saw it in her eyes, it's over.'

John allowed a glance towards the night club's ceiling to see a golden chandelier high above them. He smiled in disbelief.

'Then she said Te Amo,  
Then she put her hand around me waist–' - Sherlock raised his right arm and wrapped it securely around John's waist, pulling him close, he started to sway them gently to the music as John raised his own arms to wrap around Sherlock comfortably.

'I told her no,  
She cried Te Amo,  
I told her I'm not gonna run away,  
But let me go,  
My soul is awry,  
Without asking why,  
I said Te Amo,  
Wish somebody'd tell me what she said?  
Don't it mean –'

"I love you" John whispered in time with the music, completely wrapped up in the moment as he stared up into the watchful eyes of his flatmate.

'Think it means I love you,  
Don't it mean I love you'

'Te Amo, Te Amo,  
Shes scared to breathe,  
I hold her hand, I got no choice' – Sherlock's other arm reached down to take the Doctors' own that was loosely hanging by his side. Bringing them up, Sherlock watched them as they intertwined in mid-air before he rested them against his own chest, looking down at John once more, his expression unreadable.

'Pulled me out on the beach, danced in the water,  
I start to leave,  
She's begging me and asking why it's over' – It hit John with full force that this was the end of their platonic friendship. There was no denying that this was the beginning of something powerful; something that he had been objecting to for some time.

'Listen we can dance,  
But you gotta watch your hands' – Sherlock smiled, John was reminded briefly of a smug cat as he watched the taller man in complete awe.

'Watch me all night, I'm movin' to the night because I understand,  
That we all need love,  
And I'm not afraid  
To feel the love but I don't feel that way' – Sherlock's head tilted slightly as though contemplating something; his breath ghosted over John's face and made the shorter man shiver involuntarily.

'Think it means I love you,  
Te Amo  
Te Amo  
Don't it mean-' Sherlock's approach was slow as he bent his neck; bringing his lips to John's ear in order to whisper the last three words of the song for John's ears only.

"I love you"

John's eyes closed in pleasure as he felt Sherlock's voice wash over him. The song drew to a close and the men stopped their swaying. Still holding on to one another; Sherlock lifted his lips to John's temple and placed a gentle kiss to the blonde hair he found there.

The next song emanated loudly from the speakers and caused the majority of the females in the club to invade the dance floor. John looked up at Sherlock with an expression that said 'let's go'.

The 'Single Ladies' of the club began to synchronise dance to the well – known song by Beyonce as Sherlock unwrapped himself from the shorter man and walked toward the exit, John's hand still firmly twined with his own.

The Doctor's mind was reeling as he was tugged along by the silent Detective, the night air braced John's face as he watched taxi's pass and drunken individuals crawl by.

Eventually, the soldier noticed that they were headed towards the Thames, not Baker Street.

"Where are we going?" John whispered in the quiet stillness as he followed Sherlock up the steps onto the Jubilee Bridge. Sherlock stopped and leant against the railings, admiring his city; lit up with many twinkling lights. John stopped beside him and squeezed his hand gently, listening to the gentle lapping of the water below them.

"Well, with a nights' work in the bag, I thought we might enjoy a stroll" Sherlock said with a glance down at his companion as a smile washed his face for only a brief second.

"Wait, you managed to see the gang in there?" John asked in a fluster. "I thought that our dancing was-"

"That _was _the mission tonight, John. Don't you see?" Sherlock sighed heavily at John's confused expression. "Tonight was not about the work, John. It was about us"

John's furrowed brow burrowed further as he looked up at Sherlock with an open mouth; the warm summer's breeze fluffing his hair slightly.

"Today, at the crime scene," Sherlock started, taking a breath and looking out to Westminster once more. "I saw the longing in your eyes; I knew instantly that you were innocent of the knowledge that we have been dancing around each other for some time. I had to take action because I cannot stand it anymore. I didn't know how else it could be done. The women in there – I paid them to approach me. I organised the music choices too, I needed you to come to your own conclusion. It was a simple question of Music induced Chemistry. Overall, a very successful operation" Sherlock finished with another brief smile.

John closed his mouth as he, too, looked out at London, watching the slowly rotating tourist attraction across the water.

"What now?" the Doctor asked timidly after a while.

"I do not know" Sherlock said grudgingly, pursing his lips together and focusing his attention on the London Eye also. "I hadn't thought this far ahead".

John let a snort of laughter escape his throat much to Sherlock's surprise.

"Well I do" John said, bravely or drunkenly – he hadn't quite decided which – he pulled Sherlock towards him by his hand. Leaning up on his tip-toes, John snatched a kiss from the Sociopath.

It was only a brief press of lips, but it was enough for Sherlock to untangle his hand from John's and instead wrap his arms around the shorter man's waist. John smiled against Sherlock's lips before leaning against the taller man's chest and relaxing the kiss.

Lazily, they deepened their kiss and sighed contentedly simultaneously.

Breaking apart, John rested his nose and forehead against Sherlock's.

"You knew, all along, you knew didn't you?" John whispered with a smile, his eyes remaining closed.

"Yes" Sherlock whispered back.

"You sod" John said with a huff of laughter.

"And yet, you still love me" Sherlock mused, nudging John's nose with his own.

"I do" John said breaking apart from the genius. "Do we have to go home? Can't we just stay out tonight?" John asked.

Sherlock raised one eyebrow questioningly as he looked down at the Doctor.

"What do you suggest?" He asked.

"Food? Another club? A night out with my new partner?" John suggested with a grin.

Sherlock reciprocated with his own grin, his rarely seen youthfulness surfacing for a brief moment.

"Dirty dancing?" Sherlock asked with both eyebrows raised.

John grinned wider as his eyes sparkled in the dark.

"Naughty Doctor Watson" the Detective chided teasingly before grasping the hand that was offered to him and following the excited Soldier off the bridge and into the Saturday night town.

-To be continued-

…If you like it O_o


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for all my reviews and story alerts! As promised; I continued!_

_Hope you like :o)_

**Chapter 2**

Something odd happens when a night club envelopes an individual. It is as if your original character evades you, you take on the persona of a confident, defiant and dare we say it; disobedient individual. Often, the alcohol consumed has much to do with it, but even as the ever sober Sherlock Holmes discovered, you can still make the transition as you cross the threshold into the dark, atmospheric and music thumping paradise of a London Night Club.

John held Sherlock's hand as his murderously excited eyes scoped the crowds for danger, for adventure and possibly for protective purposes. Spying the neon lighted bar – John dragged the taller magazine model towards it.

The music in this club was not of the main stream kind. Simply consisting of heavy beats and no lyrics, Sherlock looked up toward the DJ as John ordered the drinks.

The Consulting Detective was caught by surprise as John handed him a small glass- tiny in fact – full to the brim with a toxic looking green substance.

"It's a shot, Sherlock" John shouted across the small but hectically loud space between them.

Sherlock looked dubiously at the liquid. "I don't drink John" Sherlock's low voice carried so much louder than John's and the smaller man smiled.

"And I don't do guys, yet here we are" He shouted.

Sherlock smiled despite himself before looking past his glass to the shorter man once more.

"Tonight, you will drink, Sherlock, because we are celebrating" John said, laying an understanding hand against the taller man's dark shirted chest.

"To us, then?" Sherlock said, giving the smallest of shrugs.

"To us" John confirmed.

They both shot back the glasses and swallowed the liquid simultaneously.

John winced as he placed his glass back on the counter.

"Two more" Sherlock called to the barmaid as he lay a ten pound note on the bar and smirked at John, whose look of surprise was oddly warming.

"Lets get out of here, I don't like the music" John shouted to Sherlock as they swallowed their second shot of Apple Sours – John thought that Sherlock should be introduced to Saturday night drinking as slowly as possible.

Sherlock nodded in agreement before he turned to leave the venue.

After fighting through a crowd; Sherlock turned his shirt collar up once he had reached the pavement, feeling a slight chill at the temperature drop.

John finally emerged from the exit, roughly a minute or two later and the pair walked side by side in search of a pleasing location.

Eventually, they found a promising looking club. It was much like the first they had been to at the start of the night; with ornate wallpaper, booths surrounding a large wooden dance floor and a flash of lights dancing in every corner.

John liked it immediately; it was stylish, it was classy and it was-

"Gay" John murmured in horror as he spotted several male to male couples lining the walls.

"Perfect" Sherlock said happily, his smirk unbearable as he dug his hands into his leather trouser pockets.

"Two – ah…what were we drinking John?" Sherlock asked, turning from the bar staff towards the Doctor.

"Oh, ah, can we just have two single jack and cokes, please?" John said, weary that he didn't want to see Sherlock drunk, not yet anyway.

Suddenly a recent song belted from the DJ's decks at the foot of the – again - empty dance floor. Sherlock turned to John with a raised eyebrow, an unanswered question that John had already answered with his dark eyes.

Taking Sherlock's offered hand with his right, he placed the drink in his left hand down on the bar and risked a glance to the Italian looking barman; wordlessly saying 'we'll be back'.

John followed Sherlock on to the dance floor as the songs' intro beat into the walls and wood around them with its' sheer volume. John once more felt his inhibitions leave him as the song took over.

Sherlock's eyes were clouded; they focused only on John's face as he dropped his hand from the shorter man's own; John could tell the same change had taken place in his partner as the lyrics of the song started, reverberating in his ear drums.

'You know I'm not one to break promises  
I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe'

Sherlock took a step forwards, a step that invaded John's personal space to the max. John's hands moved of their own accord as they ran up Sherlock's deceptively strong arms, coming to rest against his chest; his movements were achingly slow as the two men constantly searched each others eyes for reactions to testing their new boundaries.

'At the end of it all, you're still my best friend  
But there's something inside that I need to release'

Sherlock lowered his head and gently kissed the Doctor.

'Which way is right, which way is wrong  
How do I say that I need to move on  
You know we're headed separate ways'

They broke apart in the lull between the change in tempo. Suddenly the backing blasted into action, the strange, almost robotic melody saw the men grasp hold of each other. Sherlock wrapped an arm around John's back as John dug a hand deep into the dark gelled hair at the base of Sherlock's neck, simultaneously closing his eyes at the feel of it all.

'And it feels like I am just too close to love you  
There's nothing I can really say'

The unlikely couple started to move in sync; Sherlock pressing his body against the shorter man in order to control their movement.

'I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more  
Got to be true to myself'

John felt himself lift slightly from the ground as Sherlock borrowed a dance from earlier in the evening and turned them, bracing the soldier against a nearby wall as he pushed his hips into him powerfully. John's eyes flew wide as he felt more than he had bargained for past those leather trousers. He allowed a growl to escape his throat – drowned by the music as he pushed back.

'And it feels like I am just too close to love you  
So I'll be on my way'

Sherlock's hands dropped as he abruptly turned from John, walking away from him. John waited a beat before following Sherlock, grasping his left hand he spun the taller man, they shared a look before John made the next move.

John was unsure at first as he copied the dance from what he had seen on tv once, slowly, he crossed his feet over, moving to the left. John was stunned when Sherlock had moved identically, perfectly in time as they faced each other.

'You've given me more that I can return  
Yet there's oh so much that you deserve'

Growing confident once more, John continued; placing a dominating hand on Sherlock's chest as they stood diagonally to one another and swung their hips perfectly in time.

'There's nothing to say, nothing to do,  
I've nothing to give

I must leave without you  
You know we're headed separate ways

And it feels like I am just too close to love you'

Sherlock took a close in step once more, wrapped one arm snugly around John's waist and tilted him back, mimicking a version of the tango as John was leant back almost to the floor inside the safety of Sherlock's arm. Sherlock noticed the excited gasps from several on-lookers around them and this fuelled him further as he abruptly pulled John upright and grasped his other hand, letting his waist go in order to spin the doctor wildly around himself.

'There's nothing I can really say  
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more  
Got to be true to myself  
And it feels like I am just too close to love you  
So I'll be on my way'

Once more, Sherlock dropped his hands from the soldier and turned away, mirroring the lyrics.

'So I'll be on my way'

Again, the ball was in John's court as he marched toward the abandoning man, spinning the taller man towards him with hands grasping his hips, the two stepped and shook their hips, barely touching, before stepping again as the mad beat of the song bounced back into their surroundings. They made the dance floor their own with their powerful dance.

'And it feels like I am just too close to love you  
There's nothing that I can really say  
I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more  
Got to be true to myself  
And it feels like I am just too close to love you  
So I'll be on my way'

Sherlock raised a hand to John's face, his eyes were wild and erratic, reflecting his breathing pattern. John stopped still as he leaned his nose and forehead against his best friend's, unwinding from their lust-filled dance as the song drew to a close.

'So I'll be on my way  
So I'll be on my way'

It was a while before John noticed the appreciative claps and cheers from the surrounding clubbers.

Sherlock smiled, tilting his head curtly towards the mass of gay couples.

"We've found an audience then" John said with a nervous laugh as his breathing continued to tremble.

Sherlock looked up to the DJ and received a thumbs-up signal in appreciation. The Consulting Detective glanced back to John, his chest rising and falling hastily as he smiled toward him; "Well, genius _does_ require an audience" he said.

The speakers beside them bounced into action once more as the theme tune to an old bat man film filled the air. John smiled widely as he looked up to his companion once more.

"I think they want more" the Doctor said expectantly.

"They can join the queue" Sherlock mused as he launched himself at John.

The crowd cheered loudly as Sherlock and John ground against one another shamelessly to the song 'Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me, Kill me'.

Some time later, the two men were found leaning against each other, supported by the bar that was lined with several empty glasses.

"Sher-, I think….I mean…I may be wrong…but I think I'm a little…drunk" John slurred, looking expectantly up at the taller man.

"Good deduction" Sherlock said lazily as he closely examined a pink umbrella that he had retrieved from his latest drink.

"Oh, I love that song" John exclaimed as he heard the beat to 'Poker Face'.

"John" Sherlock said in disgust as he wrinkled his nose "This song….is ancient" he said with a light giggle.

John stood on his own two feet with much effort and pointed unfocusedly at Sherlock.

"Your drunk" he stated with a goofy smile.

"No, I'm…not" Sherlock said indignantly.

John moved his head closer to Sherlock, as though scoping him out; "Then dance with me" he threatened.

"Alright" Sherlock said determinedly as he pushed himself from the bar, the smirk from the bar man went completely unnoticed as John pulled Sherlock toward the full dance floor.

The music and the lights worked their magic once more as the two men seemingly sobered up in the exciting atmosphere.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck as his eyes became heavy lidded at their close proximity. He couldn't believe how interesting this evening had become.

'I wanna hold em' like they do in Texas please  
Fold em' let em' hit me raise it baby stay with me (I love it)  
Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start  
And after he's been hooked I'll play the one that's on his heart'

Their dancing was not as free as earlier in the evening but was certainly more physically involved, there was not a beat that one wasn't touching the other.

'Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, oh-oh-e-oh-oh-oh  
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got'

Without warning, John snuck a hand down from Sherlock's neck and squeezed it between them, subtly pressing his open palm to the Consulting Detective's rather 'unused' area. The feel of hot leather was enough to make John bite his own bottom lip and look longingly at Sherlock's face as the taller man let out an unheard sound of surprise.

'Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, oh-oh-e-oh-oh-oh,  
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got'

Sherlock felt his trousers unzip and a warm hand travel inside. He backed them against the wall of the dance floor, his back pressed against the decorative wall paper as he scoped the local area – they were completely surrounded by male couples engaging in much the same activity. The dance floor had become some strange sort of drunken brothel. He then turned his alcohol driven eyes to the only man that really mattered, John.

'Can't read my,  
Can't read my  
No he can't read my poker face  
(she's got me like nobody)  
Can't read my  
Can't read my  
No he can't read my poker face  
(she's got me like nobody)

P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face  
(Mum mum mum mah)  
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face  
(Mum mum mum mah)

I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be  
A little gambling is fun when you're with me (I love it)  
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun  
And baby when it's love if its not rough it isn't fun, fun'

John aptly timed a gentle tug to the taller man's growing excitement and covered his moans with his own mouth; swallowing down the profanity that was expelled from Sherlock's brain as he climaxed into John's hand.

'Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, oh-oh-e-oh-oh-oh  
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got'

It was then, that the music was halted abruptly and the darkness of the club was expelled as the main lights flickered on.

The crowd was noisy in their objections as several members of the police constabulary filtered in through the entrance.

John panicked as he looked toward his hand that was irrevocably buried in Sherlock's trousers, Sherlock himself, lost in ecstasy as he used the wall for support, his eyes closed.

"Sherlock!" John whispered, frantically trying to release his own hand and quieten his own _problem_.

The taller man opened his eyes and looked down at John in wonder.

"Sherlock, help me" John said hurriedly as he signalled to his hand trapped by hot leather.

Sherlock hastily freed John and zipped up his trousers, feeling the horrid stickiness as the leather stuck against his skin. He grimaced but pushed himself from the wall to look above the crowd at the commotion by the door.

A man with salt and pepper coloured hair pushed to the front of the police officers.

"Alright, alright, guys, we'd appreciate it if you went home now, it's getting on for 4am, and this club should have closed hours ago. Thank you" Lestrade boomed out over the top of the objective cries.

John buried his face in his hands in embarrassment but started to giggle uncontrollably at the smell of Sherlock he received from his right hand.

Sherlock knew at once what had tickled the shorter man and he, too joined in, laughing lightly as he shakily made his way to a nearby couch to sit down, leaning his head back against the couch. John sat on the arm of the red furniture, close to Sherlock as they watched the men filter out slowly.

"Gents, if you could please-" Lestrade stopped mid-request as he took another look at the only two men left in the club. He turned swiftly to the police officer on his left.

"Robertson, do next door would you?" The Detective Inspector ordered, waiting for the other 12 officers to filter out.

"John?" Greg asked as he approached the shorter man, it was with a triple take that the elder of the three recognised the tired man at John's side. "Sherlock?" he exclaimed, looking from his foreign boots to the ruffled gelled hair in one sweep of his blue eyes.

"We were in the middle of a case, Lestrade" Sherlock drawled seriously, not lifting his head from the back of the couch.

"In a gay club?" Greg questioned disbelievingly.

"Crime happens everywhere, Greg" Sherlock said dully, not moving his head he opened his eyes to look at the detective.

"Well, did you get your…man?" Greg asked awkwardly.

"Yes" both John and Sherlock answered concurrently before snatching a glance at each other.

"Just…don't tell me" Lestrade muttered as he stood to the side and signalled for the two men to leave.

John and Sherlock did as they were asked and stumbled slightly out into the early morning air.

"What do we do now?" Sherlock asked, squinting slightly at the sky.

John sighed heavily as he stretched out his shoulder blades before turning back to the consulting detective.

"Kebab?" he asked tentatively.


	3. Chapter 3

_And an epilogue for good measure!_

**Chapter 3**

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Sherlock asked incredulously as he looked at the polystyrene tub's contents.

"Eat it" John said as he stood calmly in the taxi queue.

Sherlock let a strangled 'humph' escape his throat as he lifted a bit of kebab meat with a plastic fork dubiously.

"Can I have a bit?" John asked as he pulled his own shirt collar up to shield him from the cold, matching the taller man.

Just as Sherlock was holding the fork out to John, a gun shot cracked through the air.

The two men stared at each other, john's mouth hanging open as he waited to receive the foul meat.

Without a further word between them Sherlock had thrown the entire meal into the bin beside them and they took to their heels; John following Sherlock as they chased through the back streets.

Being the first on the crime scene; Sherlock saw everything he needed to know within a minute.

"It's the gang" he murmured as he looked down at the two bodies. "They were a couple" he said darkly and John noticed the sudden anger Sherlock had given away in his words.

The doctor knelt down between the two men, being careful not to trod on their conjoined hands. It was two late, they were both dead, their eyes open and staring at one another. John swallowed painfully.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here then? Another two fags?" A taunting male voice shouted from the adjacent alleyway.

Sherlock lunged forward and grabbed John's shirt, throwing the shorter man behind him protectively.

There was the sound of tinny music as the gang came into full view; one of them had an ipod on speakers, the others held weaponry. The hub of the group – the one that had taunted them held the gun.

The dozen or so teenagers spread out in a semi-circle around the Consulting Detective and Doctor; John peeked over Sherlock's shoulder timidly, feeling for his own gun that he had forgotten, until now, that he had brought out that night.

"It is boys, look, they're holding hands" The rotten boy called out teasingly.

Sherlock looked down to see that he did in fact have a hold of the Doctor's hand, but he did not let it go.

The music finished echoing around the small alley as the tune changed on the smallest lad's ipod. John recognised the tune as one of those they had danced to that very night and let go of his gun; leaving it seated in his trouser waistband.

'You know I'm not one to break promises  
I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe'

He squeezed Sherlock's hand and spotted the tiny curt nod the Detective responded with.

Without further communication the two men separated; John to the right and Sherlock to the left. Using the music to their advantage; they simultaneously fought against the gang.

John switched into soldier mode as he gripped the wooden poll that the first 19 year old brandished in an inexperienced manner, stealing it from his grip he used the weapon to defend; right, left and centre as he ripped through five of the boys before taking breath.

Upon looking up, John saw Sherlock had done the same with the other six and he currently had his hand grasped firmly around the gang-leaders throat.

At that very moment, police cars screeched to a halt either side of the short alleyway. Lestrade ran down the alley and stopped short at the sight of the thirteen unmoving bodies lining the cobbles. John dropped the wooden poll and walked carefully towards Sherlock. He could tell that Sherlock was 'worked up', or perhaps 'seething with anger' was a better phrase. The Doctor gently put a hand on Sherlock's hip. The taller man allowed a glance down at John but only squeezed his hold on the boy.

"Sherlock, its ok, Lestrade is here now, he'll take over" John said gently, allowing his hand to squeeze Sherlock's side.

Sherlock loosened his hand slightly at John's voice but didn't let go.

"Shh, it's ok, he can't do any more harm" John coaxed.

"He killed them. He killed them, John, because they were 'unnatural'" Sherlock spat, his whole body trembling with murderous anger.

John allowed a glance to the white washed child at Sherlock's mercy.

"And now you are killing _him_, Sherlock" John said gently.

At John's words, Sherlock instantly let go, the boy crumpled to the ground and John removed the gun from his grip.

Lestrade and the following officers walked forward slowly. Sherlock turned to John and the shorter man gasped at the sight of water escaping the cold Detective's eyes.

"Oh, Sherlock" John said protectively, he pulled the taller man towards him and hugged him tightly. "It's ok, it's just the alcohol, you'll be ok in the morning" John whispered into Sherlock's ear.

Greg moved into John's line of vision, a look of utmost concern on his face.

"John, get to the patrol car up there, Richards, take them back to Baker Street. We'll call you both in, in the morning" Lestrade said quietly.

John nodded his thanks over Sherlock's shivering shoulder before the two men made their way towards the flashing vehicle, behind them the ipod's song came to an end as Greg shouted out to "Clear up this mess".

0-0

Sherlock was still leaking tears as the car pulled up outside their home. The sun was beginning to rise as John thanked the policeman before fetching his house keys from his pocket. Sherlock stood a little way behind John as he wrapped his arms around himself – he looked vulnerable and John hated the thought of it.

"Come on" John said gently as he held out his hand for the Detective. There was a flash of fear in Sherlock's face as he took the offered hand for the millionth time that night.

Upon reaching the landing, John steered them into Sherlock's room, sitting the man down on the bed; John stripped the taller man of his clothes. Silently, John then undressed himself and pulled Sherlock to his feet.

They entered the hot shower together, John immediately taking care to wash Sherlock's hair and face.

All the while, Sherlock stood stock still under the fall of water. His face now looked a deathly pale as the previously applied fake tan washed itself away and John felt his heart pang painfully.

"Sherlock, it's ok, it's just us, remember? You and me" John said softly, pressing his lips to the taller man's jaw.

"John" Sherlock whispered. "What have I done?" he said loosely.

John moved back slightly, looking up at the wet detective.

"Nothing, Sherlock, everything is ok" John said with an encouraging smile.

"No, it's not. I've made us a target. We should never have started what we started last night – I've put your life in danger" the Consulting Detective explained tonelessly.

John's eyes filled with panic.

"No, Sherlock, don't think like that. We cannot undo what we've learned, I love you and you love me, we will protect each other, we have always done it up until now" John said, his eyes widening with every second word.

Sherlock looked down at John now. "I can't always be there to protect you" he said gently.

"I'm a soldier, Sherlock; I can look after myself and you. But that's how we work, we save each other, regardless of what we are relationship wise. Now stop thinking like that and wash my hair, its sweaty" John finished with a determined smile, handing the soap to the taller man.

Sherlock allowed a weak smile to cross his face as he turned them, putting John under the shower's stream.

"I'm sorry for, the emotion, my body betraying me" Sherlock explained as he gently massaged the soap into John's blonde hair.

"Its not surprising really, is it, Sherlock? I mean, you've never had that much alcohol, have you? Probably not danced that much before? And definitely never had a physical release before? It's ok to be Human, it's not an advantage but it's definitely ok" John said quietly as he turned around to face Sherlock.

The Consulting Detective smiled. "Why does club music have such an effect?" Sherlock mused, now washing John's face gently.

"Night clubbers' syndrome" John mused with a smile. "One of the Worlds' many mysteries, Sherlock"

The taller man smiled cheekily.

"Bed?" he asked.

"Hmm" John replied in agreement turning off the shower with a flick of the dial.

.The End.


End file.
